


Dreams, Disturbed

by space_pilot3000



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Budding Love, Complete, F/F, Ghosts, One Shot, Survivor Guilt, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_pilot3000/pseuds/space_pilot3000
Summary: Cinderpelt said Leafpaw had always had a special connection with StarClan, from the time she was a kit. That was true, maybe, but her dreams weren’t filled with starry cats unless she wanted them to be. When a mystery begins to unravel itself in Leafpaw’s private dreamworld, only she can help the cat at the center of it to heal.
Relationships: Leafpool/Mothwing (Warriors)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	Dreams, Disturbed

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to Roseatte/@wc-love-what-is-mortal for beta'ing!

Cinderpelt said Leafpaw had always had a special connection with StarClan, from the time she was a kit. That was true, maybe, but her dreams weren’t filled with starry cats unless she wanted them to be.

Instead, each night Leafpaw found herself on StarClan’s outermost borders. If she needed to speak with the dead, she could venture in and find Bluestar or Spottedleaf or her other spiritual guides and mentors. But most nights, she turned her back on StarClan’s hunting grounds and headed off into a world all her own.

Leafpaw’s dreams took place in a fantastic landscape that she faintly suspected was of her own creation. They brimmed with massive fields of heather and gorse, her favorite flowers, and sunken, misty forests where the ground was covered in cool, springy moss. The landscape was patterned in rivers and streams that glittered light pink, reflecting the everlasting sunset in her world. Her favorite creek was the one that rushed into a massive waterfall, which itself led to a huge, still and silent pool where she tried to teach herself to swim, unsuccessfully. The pool was lined with long, flat boulders, perfect for sunning.

She spent her days with her parents, Squirrelpaw, and Cinderpelt, but Leafpaw’s nights were spent wandering in her own personal wonderland.

–

Until one night, there was a Twoleg nest.

Leafpaw had simply been wandering through the ferns in the thickest parts of the forest, enjoying the feeling of their fronds brushing her pelt and humming to herself, when she came across a clearing.

She’d never been this deep into the forest and besides she had a sneaking suspicion that the landscape of her dreams changed nightly, yet, the clearing itself disturbed her. On some level it didn’t feel like it was something she would have _done_ , not in a place she went to feel small and isolated among the trees. To leap from that feeling to the openness and freedom of a clear area was not consistent with what she’d seen of this landscape, what she usually thought of.

Padding forward until she reached the edge of the clipped grass, Leafpaw inspected the clearing.

In the center, the Twoleg nest stood tall and empty. It lacked many holes save a few in the bottom area and what looked to be an entrance, and it was mostly white, though the bottom part seemed to be made of stacks of large, flat gray stones. The clearing was large, far larger than was needed to accommodate it. Leafpaw could swear the grass grew dimmer and less vibrant the closer it grew to the nest, which seemed to exist almost completely in black and white.

Leafpaw had never felt frightened in her dreamworld before, but today she did.

Despite herself, she crept forward, staying low to the ground even though it didn’t offer cover. She felt as though by exiting the forest, she had trodden on some unmarked border, and every instinct in her screamed that any predator in the area was coming for her now, plus probably a Twoleg and a band of territorial cats.

But she was the only living being here. These were _her_ dreams. With that reassurance, Leafpaw drew up close to the nest.

What had looked, at first, to be large square holes into the nest on its bottom section were in fact covered with some sort of substance Leafpaw couldn’t quite get her head around. It was quite clear but hard as a rock, and yet unlike a rock it wasn’t cool or rough but entirely neutral in both temperature and texture. The see-through substance was lined around the edges with some special kind of rock that reminded Leafpaw of the Moonstone, with its special sheen and apparently inherent coldness.

Further down the nest, one of the clear sheets, however, had been propped up by some sort of stick, leaving what seemed to be an actual hole in the den.

Leafpaw approached it cautiously. The inside of the den was too dark to really observe from the outside. She stuck her paw inside to take one step into the hole -

and instead her paw hit water, so deep that even as she stumbled forward she could feel nothing underneath. Scrabbling with her hindpaws, Leafpaw took several steps back and as she did, the strange clear sheet snapped back over the hole of its own accord, leaving the nest inaccessible. Too frightened to think, Leafpaw ran.

When she finally slowed a bit, in a vast moor filled with heather far from the Twoleg nest, she sat and began to dry her wet leg with her tongue. Why had the Twoleg nest been there? What had the water meant?

It wasn’t _hers_ , she knew that. It was a bad dream, and Leafpaw never had bad dreams.

But that meant someone else had to be here.

–

Days passed, then weeks, and Leafpaw forgot about the awful Twoleg nest and the fright it had given her. She returned to wandering her forests and fields alone at night, with no thoughts of the interloper upon her private dreamland.

And yet, in the back of her head, the unconscious idea that she was not alone took away the sanctity of her dreams, in a way – rather than wandering listlessly through the landscape she was acutely aware of her loneliness. The magic had disappeared with the Twoleg nest. The world of her dreams felt dull.

Yet instead of pushing her into reality, this loss drove Leafpaw further and further into her dreams. She avoided eating with her family in order to go to sleep earlier. She woke up late and ran through her days’ chores quickly to maximize her time in the world of dreams. Her sole desire was to rekindle the magic she’d lost. Everything else fell away, pointless.

One night, Leafpaw was wading through a quick, silent stream in a foggy part of the forest. The stream was lined with smooth stones on which claws scrabbled, and the enduring silence assured her that she was totally alone.

Until a sound of splashing told her that she wasn’t.

Creeping forward on light paws, Leafpaw followed the stream around a bend to the point where it deepened. There, a dark shape under the water alerted her to the presence of another. Leafpaw tensed. Had her dreams been invaded by some sort of demon or spirit? Or worse, had StarClan found her refuge and decided to colonize it? Or perhaps another cat had wandered out of Silverpelt’s outlands and into Leafpaw’s dreams?

Her thoughts were cut off as the other cat emerged.

It was a large golden cat, its head triangular-shaped in such a way Leafpaw had never seen, except in shades on WindClan faces. It quickly shook out its long, thick golden fur, rippled with dark dappling stripes, and struck its paws out across the water to swim to shore. The cat opened its eyes and Leafpaw gasped quietly as she was struck by the cool amber shade.

The cat looked at her, alerted by her noise. For just a moment, they stared wordlessly at one another. Then, the other cat screeched, fluffing up its fur, and leapt out of the water.

“Who are you?” it charged. “How did you get here?”

“Who am _I?”_ Leafpaw exclaimed. “I was here first! And I could ask the same of you!” A high-pitched note wormed its way into Leafpaw’s voice, betraying her fear. There had never been an intruder in her forest before.

The other cat flattened its fur, narrowing its eyes at her. “I’m Mothpaw. How did you get here?”

Leafpaw raised herself slightly from her slouch. “You’re Clan?” she asked, ignoring the question. “Which one?”

“Tell me who you are first,” Mothpaw retorted.

Shrinking back, Leafpaw averted her eyes. This was probably a warrior apprentice, and certainly one from an enemy Clan at that. She’d never win in a fight. “I’m Leafpaw of ThunderClan,” she said, unable to avoid a tremor in her voice.

The other cat straightened, ears pricking. “You’re a medicine cat, right?” Leafpaw lowered her head and nodded shyly. “I saw you at the last Gathering with your mentor,” Mothpaw explained.

“Which Clan?” Leafpaw asked quietly.

“Oh, RiverClan. Do you like being a medicine cat apprentice?”

“How did you get here?” Leafpaw said, ignoring the question.

Mothpaw immediately drooped, looking away, ears flat. “I- I’d rather not talk about it,” she said.

“You’d better tell me how you got here.” Leafpaw stepped forward. This was the only thing that mattered. How on earth had a RiverClan apprentice found her secret place?

At the aggressive gesture, Mothpaw startled and moved back. “I just wake up here,” Mothpaw said quickly. “When I go to sleep, I open my eyes and I’m here again. In this forest, I mean.”

Leafpaw flattened her ears against her head. There was something Mothpaw wasn’t telling her. “Which part?” she said.

“I don’t know, among trees.” Mothpaw forced a snort, a little too loud. “Why does it matter, anyways?”

“It matters so much that you’re not telling me the truth,” Leafpaw challenged.

Mothpaw looked away suddenly, breaking eye contact. She looked…. Ashamed? Leafpaw didn’t know that a cat from another Clan could or would ever be ashamed for lying to protect their secrets. She almost felt bad for asking, but then Mothpaw sighed and spoke again.

“I… I don’t think I can tell you, only show you. It’s a bad place. A nightmare. I run away from it and end up here, in the sanctuary of the forest.”

Leafpaw’s fur prickled uncomfortably. Could it be…? No, the Twoleg nest had been Leafpaw’s one-time bad dream, a terrible conjuration of her mind, if it even existed at all and wasn’t just – well – a dream. There was no chance that… and yet…

“What sort of bad place?” Leafpaw said more softly.

Mothpaw shuffled her paws together, and stuttered, “A place from my past. I think… I think Clan cats would call it -”

That was the moment Leafpaw woke up.

–

With Mothpaw’s arrival, color returned to the dreamworld. At first Leafpaw avoided the golden tabby, eager to find her personal isolation again, but soon they began to wordlessly hunt and pad together through the trees and across the streams. Mothpaw was clearly eager to forget Leafpaw’s questions at their first meeting, so Leafpaw graciously let the topic go.

Instead they spoke of other things. Slowly at first – only a few words per night – but then more. Mothpaw wanted to know all about what it was like being a medicine cat apprentice, but she reacted with horror on learning that Leafpaw was a poor hunter and could barely defend herself.

“What will you do if your Clan’s camp is attacked?” she said.

“The warriors will protect me and Cinderpelt so we can focus on healing the injured,” Leafpaw said patiently.

Mothpaw shook her head. “In RiverClan, our medicine cat – Mudfur – wait, you knew that-”

“Go on,” Leafpaw encouraged.

“He trained as a warrior first. He can feed himself and his patients without relying on the warriors, and in battle he can defend the medicine den without help.”

“That’s not usual, though,” Leafpaw said.

“Maybe it should be.”

For her part, Leafpaw was as interested in the life of a RiverClanner as Mothpaw was in the duties of a medicine cat. Particularly, Leafpaw liked hearing about how they lined their nests with pretty shells, scales, leaves and feathers, as well as shiny Twoleg objects left behind. She wondered if Cinderpelt might suspect something was up if, in the waking world, she began following the practice.

But for all their friendly conversation, there were things Mothpaw would not speak on. She never talked about her kithood, her parents or the place where she began her dreams each night. She would simply find Leafpaw wherever she was, drenched in sweat and shaking, and act as though nothing was amiss.

Leafpaw let her keep her secrets. Ostensibly, they were enemies, though their hearts grew closer every day. The pretty molly didn’t _have_ to tell her anything. And she didn’t, until one day she did.

A moon had passed in the living world since Leafpaw met Mothpaw. She’d gotten well used to the golden tabby’s silence, but one night when she showed up in her usual panic, she didn’t calm down. Her knees shook together, her eyes were wide and her ears were flat as she said, “Volekit nearly drowned.”

“But he’s all right?” Leafpaw said, noting the ‘ _nearly’._

“Hawkpaw saved him, but.. what if that had been Tadpole all over again? I can’t… I don’t think RiverClan can be for me,” Mothpaw said.

Her eyes were wild with fear, and the words jarred Leafpaw. She put aside the mention of the unfamiliar cat Tadpole and asked, “Why do you think that?”

“The water’s going to get me,” Mothpaw said, so quickly that Leafpaw thought for a moment she might have interrupted her. “I’m drowning. Can’t breathe, can’t swim. It got him and it’ll kill me too, and Hawk.”

“But Mothpaw, you _can_ swim,” Leafpaw insisted, stepping forward. Careful not to touch the other she-cat while she was distressed, Leafpaw looked intently into the pretty ginger’s amber eyes. “You can swim as strong and fast as any RiverClan cat. And you don’t want to leave that behind – everyone you love is there.”

“Not my parents. They were _rogues,_ Leafpaw,” Mothpaw said, voice shaking. “I can’t… my mother made a mistake leaving us here. She made a mistake rescuing us to begin with. She should have left us with Tadpole.”

“Who was he?” Leafpaw asked softly.

Mothpaw’s eyes darkened with sorrow. “My… my brother. My other brother, that is. He died when we were kits, at the bottom of a horrible Twoleg nest that flooded while we were inside, and… and Mama couldn’t save him, and after that she didn’t want much to do with me and Hawk anymore.”

Fear clutched Leafpaw very suddenly. “A Twoleg nest? Like…?”

Mothpaw’s eyes rounded and she turned to the brown tabby, but said nothing. Leafpaw’s throat closed around the words, but she forced them out: “Like the one in the forest?”

“You knew,” Mothpaw said, and her voice sounded hollow. “All along, you knew.”

“Not till now,” Leafpaw promised. “But I’ve been there. I… I know why you hated it. I stumbled upon it.”

“I can’t escape it. Tadpole haunts me, every second, and when he doesn’t, I just – I feel _so_ guilty,” Mothpaw said, the grief spilling out of her now like blood from a wound. Leafpaw knew that with this type of injury it was best to just let the patient bleed, so she stayed quiet. “It feels like he’s trapped there, like he’s calling me back. I don’t think I can escape him till I face him, but I can’t… not on my own...”

Something occurred to Leafpaw. “You wouldn’t have to be on your own.”

“Huh?”

“I’d help. Of course I’d help. I’m a medicine cat – Cinderpelt says it’ s our job to heal hearts as well as minds.” With that, Leafpaw broke the space between them, leaning forward to lick down her friend’s alarmed fur, and to her surprise, Mothpaw acquiesed.

“That’s so noble,” she murmured. “Medicine cats. You really are the best of us, you know?”

–

Leafpaw took in one shaky breath, then let it out in a long, controlled exhale that emptied her lungs long before it emptied her mind. Mothpaw’s tail brushed over her shoulders. “You don’t have to help,” the golden molly said. “I know it’s kind of...”

She trailed off, because there were no frankly no words for the terrible vibes the Twoleg nest was emanating. Just being near it made Leafpaw more deeply uneasy than almost anything else she’d experienced in her young life. Regardless, she steeled herself with one more sigh.

“No. I want to help,” she said firmly. She lifted her chin. “What do you think we need to do?”

“I’m still not sure. But… I think I need to go in. And talk to him, if I can,” Mothpaw said. “I can’t move on from Tadpole’s death, and I think he can’t either. Maybe if I can help him… I can help myself. You know?”

“That makes sense,” Leafpaw said. Not for the first time, she wondered what non-Clan cats did when they died. Surely, they didn’t enter StarClan? But Mothpaw had mentioned that her mother grew up a kittypet and she never met her father, so she wouldn’t know rogues’ lore.

Shaking her head clear of distracting thoughts, Leafpaw leaned toward her friend. “I’ll be right here by your side the whole time,” she said. “You don’t have anything to worry about so long as I’m here.”

Mothpaw laughed nervously. “I’m the warrior apprentice,” she huffed. “What are you going to do, heal any danger to death?” She didn’t tease like that unless she was really scared or upset. Leafpaw arched her back to rub against her friend comfortingly, and purred at her until she felt Mothpaw’s heart rate start to slow a bit.

“We go together, no matter what,” she promised. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, Mothpaw stepped tentatively toward the dingy Twoleg den. Leafpaw braced herself.

Nothing happened.

Walking slowly and carefully, they both started making their way towards the den, pelts brushing. Leafpaw was reassured by Mothpaw’s strong stature, and hoped that her presence was doing the same for Mothpaw. Her heart rate slowed as they neared the den and still nothing happened.

“The windows are all open,” Mothpaw muttered.

“What’s a window?” Leafpaw whispered, scanning the den.

Mothpaw leaned close and pointed with her tail, but Leafpaw was startled by the way her friend’s cheek brushed hers. They’d never stood quite so close before, and being so surrounded by Mothpaw’s long, golden fur was sending her heart racing again. Then she shook her head. _Focus, Leafpaw!_

She gazed across the short stretch of grass to the holes in the side of the den Mothpaw was pointing to. The same square holes which had been covered with the odd clear substance on Leafpaw’s first visit, were all open now, the clear substances all gone or propped up by more sticks.

“What do you think that means?” Leafpaw asked.

“We have to go in,” Mothpaw replied automatically, but Leafpaw could feel her heartbeat speeding up again. “He’ll be waiting for us in there.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” Leafpaw said, trying to sound more determined than she felt. She pushed forward towards the windows and dipped a paw in the water, as she had before. She felt Mothpaw coming up just behind her.

“Last chance to back out. You don’t have to do this, Leafpaw,” Mothpaw said.

Leafpaw turned around and looked her friend dead in the eyes. “I’m going with you. I’m by your side.” Not giving herself a chance for second thoughts, she leaned forward and leapt into the water.

Instantly she was surrounded by the dark, wet cold. It was deeper and more endless than anything she’d ever known. There was no lit surface above to yearn for, and even as Leafpaw flailed desperately she had no idea if she was moving in the right direction to break the surface. She could hold her breath for a decent amount of time, but the panic beginning to grip her chest made it difficult to stop herself from breathing, even as she sank.

Lukewarm water, pushing up against her nostrils, began to invade. Panicking, Leafpaw breathed out quick and hard through her nose, leaving her lungs searingly empty. She needed to breathe again. Willing herself not to gasp, she kicked desperately, but it was already harder than it had been mere moments ago, her limbs quickly going numb and cramping from the cold.

Suddenly, something sharp nestled itself into the scruff of Leafpaw’s neck, and she was rapidly moving upwards. As her muzzle broke the surface of the water, she gasped, not caring that a bit of water streamed into her mouth. Sweet, wonderful air – she’d never take it for granted again – she filled her lungs with desperate pleasure.

Mothpaw was there – she’d dragged her to the surface. “There’s a pipe around here somewhere,” the golden tabby grunted. “You can cling to that to keep your head out of the water.” Leafpaw nodded assent, suddenly too exhausted to speak.

Mothpaw helped guide her over to a large, cold rock outcropping from the wall, which must have been the “pipe” she was talking about, and purred at Leafpaw until she was a bit calmer. With a jolt of pride, Leafpaw realized her friend must have picked up that particular healing trick from her.

“What now?” Leafpaw gasped.

“He must be around here somewhere. If I can just talk to him...” Mothpaw said.

Out of the corner of Leafpaw’s eye, something moved.

In the darkness, a small black form was growing larger. As her eyes focused, Leafpaw realized it was a little black cat, his eyes midway in the transformation from kitten-blue to bright green. His tail was still too small and short for his body, but he held himself like a full-grown cat, looking down on them with nothing but coldness. Strangest of all, he was walking towards them across the top of the water.

“Tadpole?” Leafpaw asked, unable to stop herself.

Mothpaw’s head whipped around, and the small black cat stopped. Their eyes met. After a moment, without speaking, Mothpaw moved away from Leafpaw, swimming out into the water towards her brother.

Leafpaw stopped herself from crying out after her friend. _She has to confront him herself._

“Tadpole, I – I left you here to die,” Mothpaw stammered. The kitten stared back impassively, and Mothpaw glanced quickly back at Leafpaw, nervousness flicking in her gaze. “Please forgive me. You didn’t deserve this, and it’s all my fault-” She choked, her mews dissolving into a sudden sob.

Tadpole didn’t respond, but he rotated his head ever so slightly, and suddenly, involuntarily, Leafpaw met his eyes.

–

_Three kittens. All they wanted was to make their mother happy._

_But they trapped themselves in this little underground space, and it began to rain, and it began to_ flood.

_The black kitten was the bravest. He let his siblings climb up towards the opening on his shoulders, shouting encouragement. “Climb, climb! You can do it! Hawk, get up onto that ledge! Moth, keep going! I know you can make it!”_

_The brown tom’s paws scrabbled at the opening, and he was quickly snatched up by his mother’s jaws. Her face returned in an instant, straining towards her other two kittens. Eyes flashing with panic, the golden kitten cried, “Tadpole, I_ can’t _! It’s too hard!”_

“ _I’ll help you,” the black tom promised. With a surge of strength, he let go of the pole and began to swim for a moment, shoving his sister upwards with all his strength. “There – ugh – there!”_

_Crouching on the ledge, the golden kitten reached outwards toward her brother, but the water was sweeping him away, towards the middle of the cavernous space, even as he flailed wildly. “Tadpole!” she screeched. She tensed to leap towards him, but before she could jump, her mother’s jaws clamped firmly on her scruff and pulled her out._

_Out on the rain-soaked grass next to Hawk, she stared at her mother with wide eyes. Sasha was still leaning into the hole. “Tadpole’s still in there, Mama! You have to help him!” she cried._

_Beside her, Hawk let out a low moan. She couldn’t tell if it was tears or rain rolling down his cheeks. “Help him, Mama, help him, Mama please, please,” he repeated over and over, almost as though he was chanting to himself._

_But after a few more moments’ struggle, their mother backed away from the opening, let it swing shut. There was no scrap of black fur in her jaws. Moth let the cold rain wash over her fur, numb._

_With a sudden movement, Hawk leaped towards the opening, only to be stopped by his mother’s firm grip. “No! Let me go! He needs me!” he cried._

“ _He’s gone, Hawk. Tadpole is gone,” their mother said, though her words sounded hollow._

_Moth crouched beside her brother, who flopped to the ground and let out an unearthly screech of pain. How would they ever live without him?_

–

Back in the water, clinging to the same pipe Tadpole had flung himself off of to save his sister’s life, Leafpaw gasped.

She had seen everything. She had seen it all. And now, staring into his blue-green eyes, she knew what needed to be done.

Praying for StarClan to give her strength, she let go of the pipe, paddling quickly as she could through the water to Mothpaw’s side.

The golden tabby was pale with terror and grief, and she looked shocked to see Leafpaw beside her. “Leafpaw – what – you’re going to drown!” she exclaimed.

“No. Moth, listen to me. He’s not going to forgive you,” Leafpaw said. She paddled her paws in front of her face with newfound strength, feeling as though she had been born to swim.

Mothpaw spluttered, paling further. “Wh-what?”

“He’s not going to forgive you,” Leafpaw pressed on, “because he already has. This isn’t about that. You need to forgive yourself.”

Mothpaw opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. Then, the golden tabby flattened her ears and looked away, shame darkening her features. “How can I? If he hadn’t tried to help me, he could have held on and we both could have lived. Or I could have gone in his place. He didn’t have to die...”

Leafpaw willed herself to float in the water solely on the power of her churning back legs, and stretched her front paws out to grab Mothpaw’s cheeks. She turned her friend’s head, forcing her to make eye contact and focus on her, not Tadpole’s ghost. “You were both kittens. It couldn’t have been either of your faults. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen. And even if you could have – he gave his life to save yours. He made a _choice_. You can’t blame yourself for a _sacrifice_ , Moth. Okay?”

Amber eyes met, and time seemed to slow down. Even the water, which had churned furiously around them, seemed to calm. Mothpaw breathed out, slow, and Leafpaw leaned in towards her, letting their foreheads touch, and purred, closing her eyes.

Their fur seemed to dry, but Leafpaw kept her eyes closed, purring at her friend to reassure her. _Everything is okay. I am here. I will always be here for you._ Mothpaw purred back, the force of her affection vibrating Leafpool from nose to tail-tip.

Finally, long after they had both relaxed into one anothers’ warm embrace, Leafpaw opened her eyes to find that they were in the midst of a sunlight-dappled forest, near a small stream bed.

“Mothpaw, it’s over,” she breathed. “He’s gone.”

Mothpaw opened her eyes and lifted her head, gazing upwards. “No, he’s still with me. But I don’t feel the weight of his death anymore. It’s like I’m a new cat.”

Leafpaw purred again, this time not to reassure her friend but simply out of relief. “I’m glad.”

“You’ve healed me, Leafpaw,” the golden tabby said, sitting up. “You’re the best medicine cat I know.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m just an apprentice,” Leafpaw laughed, but Mothpaw lifted a paw and shushed her.

“Let me finish,” she said, amber eyes sparkling. “You’re the best medicine cat I know, and I… I want to be like you. I want to help cats the way you do. I can’t imagine a better way to serve my Clan, to _do good._ ”

“Really?” Leafpaw said. Her heart leaped. “Are you-”

“I want to become a medicine cat apprentice,” Mothpaw confirmed.

Gasping in delight, Leafpaw leapt up and jumped towards her friend, who caught her with her forelegs. They sat like that for a moment, as close as two cats could be, and Leafpaw’s heart thumped with excitement and delight and Mothpaw’s soft, salty scent.

“We’ll get to see each other every half-moon now,” Leafpaw squeaked.

Mothpaw leaned down, letting her whiskers tickle Leafpaw’s ear, and admitted, “That might also be part of the reason I want to do this.”

Leafpaw leaned back to look at her. “Don’t just make such a big decision for me!” she scolded, though her pelt warmed at the thought. “Do it because you want to.”

“I do,” Mothpaw promised, and Leafpaw sighed happily, leaning back in.

Pressing her head into her friend’s soft fur, Leafpaw thought back to the nights she had spent stalking this forest alone. Mere moons ago the thought of sharing her forest with another would have frightened her, if not caused her to become defensive and paranoid. She could hardly imagine that now. From this moment, she would scarcely walk through the forest without thinking of Mothpaw, her long soft golden fur and her sparkling amber eyes. They would walk here side by side now, for as long as they both lived, and, StarClan willing, once they died.


End file.
